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Wookiee turbolaser viewport platform, Sector D, Kachirho, Kashyyyk, 1,088 days after the Battle of Geonosis
As much as Sev had loved sniping since he was tall enough to hold the rifle, he had to admit that big guns were fun, too. And the Wookiee dual missile turret he was manning right now was a very big gun.
“The shields are down, squad. Keep it up!” Boss’ voice came over comm.
Sev kept firing relentlessly at the destroyer hovering above. He saw explosions and fire all over the ship’s hull. Those Wookiees knew how to build a good turbolaser, alright. One had to love them for their top-of-the-line weapons tech. He could see the particle beams from the turrets his brothers were operating, too. Good, old teamwork - get the enemy from different angles, and you’ll see results.
But on this mission, Delta Squad was, for once, not alone. “Scans indicate her hull is weakening, Delta Squad,” General Vos’ forward air controller informed them. “We’re coming in for a strafing run! Keep firing!”
Sev did as ordered. Having air support was nice, he figured. They could have finished the job without, though, if they had to. They were competent enough, and Sev knew that.
“Target acquired!” The FAC’s disembodied voice said. Sev kept firing the turbolaser at the ship, completely immersed in his cold, hard focus. “Target locked!” The FAC added. Soon, they’d get some nice fireworks. Scorch was gonna like that. Then finally: “Missiles away!”
An instant later, the flash-protection of Sev’s visor kicked in, but his helmet was nevertheless flooded by blinding light. They had done it. That separatist ship was gone.
“Nothing like a little precision teamwork, Deltas,” he said.
He heard Scorch huff. “And that was nothing like ‘a little precision teamwork’.” His brother was right. It had been the opposite of precision, but effective nevertheless. In war, only results mattered, not how you got there. All that mattered was that they had gotten the job done, even if it was not the kind of covered ops they had been trained for.
He was about to climb off the turret control and reply with another dry remark when something hit his helmet, hard. His HUD glitched. Shab, what had snuck up on him? He tried to turn around in his seat to get a good look at the enemy, but the same object slammed into his head again. He had to cling to the controls of the turret to not fall. His HUD was stuttering, the lights dimmed. The next strike sent static across his vision. This time, he had gotten a glance at the object, though. An electro staff. Fierfek, he was dealing with another one of those shabla MagnaGuards.
And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough on its own, the shooting started.
Judging by the direction and number of bolts, he was facing at least 4 opponents with blasters, in addition to the MagnaGuard.
“... the chatter, commandos. … now, sir?” He barely heard Fixer’s voice, both because he had to focus on his situation and defence, but also because the comm kept cutting out.
Boss’ reply was just as disrupted by static. “Awaiting… Forty!” So the issue was most likely on his end, no surprise given that his HUD was still acting up. The impact and current from the electro staff must have messed with his helmet’s electronics.
“Boss, I’ve got a problem here!” He said, hoping his transmission went through.
Sev finally managed to maneuver himself off the turret stand, at least, dodging both the MagnaGuard’s rapid strikes and the blaster fire coming from what he now could identify as six B2s, and opened fire in turn. He quickly analysed his position. Less than ideal. Other than the turret itself, the turbolaser viewport didn’t offer any cover, which was a real problem with seven hostiles targeting you. There was one lone exit, but that door was blocked by the B2s. He needed a plan, and he needed it quickly. Alone, he wouldn’t stand a chance, that much he knew.
Much to his relief, he heard Boss’ urgent reply on the comm cut through the noise of battle: “Where… you, Sev?” It was slightly interrupted by static.
“Sector D. I’m facing multiple hostiles. Need reinforcements, sir!”
But there was no reply. The MagnaGuard was still chasing him around, and he couldn’t fully evade the blasterfire, either, but so far, the Katarn armour had protected him from the majority of the damage. To make things worse, the overall space was too confined for his sniper attachment to be of any use, and by using his deece’s grenade thrower, he wouldn’t just blow up the enemy, but himself, too.
“Boss? Do you copy?” Nothing. Kark. His HUD was fully down now. Sev was on his own. Cold dread twisted his guts, but he tried to ignore the sensation and to keep focus.
Sev wondered if he should try to rappel down from the viewport’s edge, to… he chanced a quick glance downwards… to Force-knows-where, but not only would that bring him further away from his squad and the evac point, but the MagnaGuard would certainly cut him loose, and he’d fall to his death. Not an option. He would have to fight his way out.
He ejected an empty magazine and slammed another into his deece, his last one. 300 shots left. Just him, one clip, and seven enemies. A matter of life or death. Then again, was it ever not? He took a deep breath. Oya !
He charged at the B2s, firing to keep his path open, grabbed one of the battledroids, and shoved it into the MagnaGuard with all his might. It was heavy and sturdy, but adrenaline could work wonders when it came to strength. The two droids slammed into each other, sending them tumbling.
Sev couldn’t see much - with his HUD down, the helmet heavily impaired his field of vision instead of amplifying it - but even with its built-in shields down as well, it offered too much protection to get rid of it.
A blaster bolt smashed through Sev’s armour and pierced his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his arm, while ramming his vibroblade into one of the droids, trying to hit its sensitive wiring through its joints. He didn’t have to down all of his opponents, he just had to get through the kriffin’ door. Then, he could at least outrun the B2s.
But before he could finish off the B2 he was now clinging to, Sev was jerked back. The MagnaGuard had gotten up again and flung his electro staff around him, trapping him in prime position for being shot at. Sev wished desperately he still had an EMP left, but he didn’t. He struggled against the MagnaGuard’s grip, but the droid didn’t loosen it one bit. Instead, it slid its weapon even higher, choking Sev. He gasped for air.
Quickly, hoping to catch it off-guard, Sev switched from wrestling his opponent to letting himself go slack. He tried to let himself drop to the floor to escape the grapple, but the MagnaGuard went down with him. It twisted its body around itself in the sickening way only droids could, and landed on top of him, pinning him down. As he hit the floor, his HUD came back online for a fragment of a second.
“Boss?” He tried. Still radio silence, as he’d feared.
His ankle, bent unnaturally under the droid’s weight, ached horribly. Sev knew he was running out of time. His heart was hammering against his armour plates like a war drum. Shab, he didn’t want to go out like this. In the past, he had looked down on troopers who feared death, or even cried for their Sarge in their final moments, but now he found his own thoughts returning to Vau, too.
He did not want to die, and he did not want to let down Walon Vau. Vau had made him a better soldier than this. He just had to try hard enough, and he would live. Sev slammed his head into the droid on top of him, over and over again, while blaster bolts rained down around him. He managed to free one arm, slamming his vibroblade against the droid's plating until he found a weak spot to shove it into, trying to damage its sensitive circuits. The MagnaGuard rolled off of him and jumped back up on its feet with ease. So did Sev, though with difficulty, and under tremendous amounts of pain shooting up his leg.
He tried to clear his thoughts. His squad was probably already on their way to get him. He just had to push through long enough. At this rate, he would last for about one more minute, maybe two. Then he’d not only be out of ammo, but probably also injured enough to not be able to fight back any longer.
He swallowed. If the chances of dying were high anyway, he might as well do something drastic, something that might either help him by taking the enemy out, or kill him. A gamble, his life as the wager. He knew that Fixer and Boss would strongly advise him against his idea, and that Scorch would like his thinking, but that he would be scared to lose him. However, they’d definitely lose him if he didn’t try.
He pictured their faces, one by one. “Sorry lads. I have to. We’ll see each other again,” he mumbled into his dead helmet. They would be here soon. They had to. He knew it.
Then, he switched to his deece’s grenade thrower attachment and aimed at the turret. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and pulled the trigger. Immediately, he went flying backwards. He could sense the heat of the explosion through his armour, and he felt himself slamming into a wall, and then to the ground. His ears were ringing, but other than that, he heard nothing. He could hardly breathe. But the pain in his legs was gone. A nice surprise.
He idly wondered if he was dead. But if he had died, why was his shoulder still hurting? He hadn’t ever believed in any sort of afterlife. If he was dead, he shouldn’t feel anything, he shouldn’t be at all. So, he tried opening his eyes, and when he did, he saw the inside of his helmet. Above him, he could only see dark smoke. No blaster bolts. Good. But why were there stars twinkling inside his helmet?
He tried blinking them away, but nothing happened. Then, he realised that he still could not feel his legs, and the realisation sank in as to what that meant. No. That mustn’t be. Sev ran a quick mental catalogue: No pain, no sensation, and no movement either. Shab. Panic ran through his body like a cold flash. He coughed, tasting blood..
Trying to move his arms worked alright. He pushed off his helmet, gasping for air, hoping to see if the droids were gone. That there was no shooting anymore had been a good sign, but hopefully the droids weren’t just temporarily down.
His field of vision was oddly narrow, and the stars still came flying in from his periphery. He turned his head. Half the platform was missing, the edges jagged and torn. He saw the lower half of the MagnaGuard on the floor close by. None of the B2s were still standing either, nor were they moving. At least something. He coughed again, the confusion and strain dousing any potential feeling of triumph. Where were his brothers? What was taking them so long? He knew he wouldn’t make it without immediate medical attention. And even more now that the enemies were down, he did not want to die, not here, not now, not like this. Not alone.
He realised that he was tearing up, and embarrassment rushed in along with the tears. But he couldn’t stop it, and a violent sob shook through his body. His vision was narrowed to a tiny point now. He closed his useless eyes, fully aware that this was likely the last time he did so. Again, he pictured his brothers in his head, grasping at memories. Boss, Fixer, Scorch, all together, all younger, uninjured, not yet disillusioned by war. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to let you down. I … I love you, ner vode. Always have, always will.” Words he had never spoken aloud before, let alone to them. Another sob wracked his body as he realised that they’d never hear it. He felt something touch his arm. It was comforting. Was it one of his brothers? Had they finally come for him?
It took Sev all the remaining strength he had to force his eyes open again, and for a glimpse of a second, he saw a pair of very hairy feet right next to him. He felt like something was pulling him up. He didn’t know if that now, at last, was the sensation of dying. He didn’t care anymore. Not even for that did he have any strength left. And then, the world went dark.